Too Much
by btch sprinkles
Summary: Sam/Castiel, series verse. Deaf!Sam. "Cas!" Dean shouted, wondering where the angel was, because shouldn't he be here helping to clean up this mess? "Cas, get your winged ass down here and take care of your boyfriend! You really f*cked up big time, buddy!"


A/N- This one has a more cohesive plot. Something that smacked me in the middle of the night and I couldn't concentrate until I wrote it down. Hope you like!

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Eleven goddamn years they'd been on the road, and Dean was just so damn tired of traveling and fighting. Closing off Heaven and Hell didn't seem to make a damn bit of difference when the little black eyed fuckers kept sneaking out, and the Angels, who were supposed to be all safely stored behind their pearly gates weren't, still meddling in the affairs of humans.

Cas was still around, which was mostly okay, though ever since he spilled the beans about Dean asking him to heal Sam's hearing, Sam had been pretty pissed and insisted that they have separate hotel rooms on the road. It wasn't like Dean thought there was anything wrong with Sam being Deaf, he just… well he just hadn't really thought about it and that winged son-of-a-bitch had to blab to his kid brother—who wasn't exactly a kid anymore—and now Sammy felt like he had something to prove.

And well, the evening started out shitty enough. He'd been rejected at the bar by the hot waitress who looked at him like he was some creepy old man leering, something he realized might actually be true when he saw his crow's feet in the mirror and thought about how he was thirty-seven, for fuck's sake.

Then he got to the hotel and that's when the shit hit the fan. He was way too drunk to be driving, so he walked home, forgetting he'd left the hotel key in the damn Impala, so he banged on Sam's door, drunk enough to forget that Sam wouldn't be able to hear the knocking in the first place. So he just you know, tried the handle. He'd expected to see Sam maybe watching TV, doing research because they couldn't seem to find that sneaky red-eyed bastard, the crossroads son of a bitch who had been evading them for weeks now.

He thought that he might even walk in on Sam watching you know, porn, or jacking off. Whatever his baby bro did in his spare time. He did not expect to see Sam on his knees giving some slobbery blow-job to Dean's favorite—and often also least favorite—angel who seemed to be enjoying it way too much for a creature of heaven.

Of course Cas noticed Dean first, and tapped Sam on his head who turned and looked at Dean just totally furious, hands flying accusations, so pissed that his hands were slapping together, his foot stomping and he didn't even seem to give a shit that he was naked.

So then Dean, of course, went back to his own room, his adrenaline strong enough for him to break the lock—fuck the deposit, it was a fake credit card anyway—and a few minutes later Sam followed.

'What the hell, Sam?'

'Not your business,' Sam signed back, his hand smacking Dean in the center of the chest for extreme emphasis.

Dean threw up his hands and took a step back from Sam, shaking his head. 'Cas?' The name sign for Cas happened to be the sign Angel signed with a C, fluttering out from the shoulders. Sam had wanted to give Cas a more creative sign, but Dean, breaking the official rules of only the Deaf can give a sign name, insisted that it was either simple, or it was the word Bitch. Now Dean understood Sam's desire for something more creative, and he didn't want to know what Sam had been considering.

'What does it matter to you?' Sam insisted.

'I didn't even know you were gay!' Dean pounded his thumb and forefinger on his chin so hard it hurt a little, but he was just so shocked. It wasn't that he cared who or what Sammy liked to fuck, but he just never knew. There hadn't ever been signs! Hell, he'd been with Ruby and they certainly hadn't had a _platonic_ blood fest.

'I'm not,' Sam signed, dragging his thumb under his chin. 'I'm not…' Sam paused, his fingers hovering in the air a moment. 'Anything,' he finished, letting his upturned palm trail off, looking somewhat defeated and just damn tired. About as tired as Dean felt.

Well that just didn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense to Dean, but in the end, who was he to argue. Sam was a magnet for this shit, whether it was Lucifer or Ruby, and now he was pretty damn sure something more than just "close friends" was going on between Sam and Gabriel years ago. And now Cas… what the hell did it matter to Dean, anyway? He thought for a moment what Bobby might say if he were still alive. Probably just shake his stupid trucker hat back and forth and rub his nose with his thumb, pinky extended 'Idiotic Idjits,' and be done with it.

Dean bowed his head and when he looked up again, Sam was gone. He jimmied a chair up against the door to hold it shut since he'd broken the lock and flopped down on the bed, now painfully aware of every noise coming from next door. He wished that just for these nights, now that he knew, he could trade his ears with Sam's so he didn't have to hear Angel sex, because how fucked up was that? They were sadistic little bastards and Dean didn't want to know _what_ got them off.

At first he thought the thumping noise was _that_ kind of thumping noise and he pushed the pillow around his head, but when the room began to shake, he realized something was going down. He didn't waste a second grabbing his demon knife and gun and hurtling himself next door where he saw Sam pressed against the wall by that big red-eyed bastard who was holding Sammy's neck so tightly he'd gone nearly purple.

Dean looked to the side and saw Cas, who'd obviously been knocked down by surprise, rise up. Dean had definitely seen this before and he looked back at the Demon who had dropped Sammy and was now facing the really pissed off, probably very sexually frustrated, Angel.

"Shield your eyes," Castiel said in a booming voice that Dean knew better not to ignore. He'd seen the devastation Angels could cause to the human eyes and he wasted no time throwing himself face-down on the ground. There was a wooshing sound, and a heat, and Dean was flung to the side of the room. Everything around him went black before his head cracked on something solid and before he hit the ground, he was out.

Dean came to in the middle of a room that he certainly hadn't put himself in. It looked like a warehouse of some sort, discarded furniture all over, and he was laying in the middle of the floor, sore as shit and completely knocked confused. There was a window high above him letting him know that however long he'd been out, it was long enough for the sun to come up, and that's when he panicked.

"Sammy!" he shouted, sitting up, grabbing his head because oh my god it hurt. He winced but forced himself to get up and have a good look around. He had no idea how he could have been blasted to wherever the hell he was, and he'd been in the presence of angel powers before and this had never happened.

There was a scuffling noise off to Dean's right, and when he turned, it was a sight for sore eyes. Sam sat against the corner, wedged in, eyes wide open staring, one hand stretched out. Dean let out a breath of relief because it seemed like Sam was fine, though a bit beat up, but his baby bro had seen a lot worse. Hell, for one thing, so a knock on the head was something he'd survive.

'Sammy,' he said, using his name sign for that which was basically just an s sliding into a y in front of his heart. He liked to say it was because he loved Sam and not because he was just too fucking lazy to do anything else. Sam liked it, though, that's what mattered. The weird thing though, was Sam didn't seem to be reacting to Dean's sign, and he was looking right at him.

Dean took another step forward and spoke when he signed, "Sam. You hurt?" He pointed his fingers together more exaggeratedly than was necessary, but he was freaking out a little because Sam was just staring at him like he had no idea who he was.

Sam's hand was still stretched out in front of him and his breathing was heavy, nearly to the point of hyperventilating and he was making a sort of deep, guttural groan in the back of his throat telling Dean that he was freaked out.

Dean stared at him, waving his hands at him but there was no reaction. That's when the panic set in and he realized that Sam was either knocked so hard he didn't know what was going on, or Sam couldn't see him. Dean was hoping for the former because if Sam was blind now, he wasn't sure what the hell he was going to do.

"Please just be nuts," Dean muttered and he knelt down in front of Sam.

At that point Sam seemed to realize there was someone or something there, because he threw himself backwards and flailed his hand, making a growl in the back of his throat. "Shit," Dean said, because he knew the worst was true and he had no idea how the hell he was going to communicate with Sammy who he was and what the hell had happened.

And what the hell had happened?

Sam had jammed himself completely in the corner, his face screwed up in a look of determination and Dean knew that Sam was dangerous if cornered, blind, deaf, whatever. He reached out, thinking for a moment he could shove Sammy's hands on his face, but he realized that wouldn't exactly accomplish much except to tell Sammy that the potentially dangerous demon monster thing in front of him hadn't shaved in a few days.

It wasn't as though Sam had spent any time rubbing his hands on Dean's face. At least, not enough to tell who he was that way. Then, in that moment of frustration and panic, it occurred to Dean he had something Sam might actually recognize and it was hanging around his neck.

Taking a deep breath, Dean grabbed Sam's hand in his, held on tight as Sam began to flail and kick and prepare to fight. With as much force as he could muster against his younger brother, Dean forced Sam's fingers to close around the amulet.

Sam froze, panic obvious on his determined face, but his fingers seemed to recognize what he was touching, and with the hand that had been previously trying to punch him repeatedly, he signed a letter D in the air.

Dean let out a shaking laugh and shoved his fist under Sam's hand, nodding it up and down. Sam let out a shaking laugh and his hand flew up to Dean's shoulder. Suddenly, surprising the hell out of Dean, Sam began tugging and pulling at Dean's shirt, ripping the top buttons and shoving it down.

That was… new, and confusing, and Dean smacked Sam's hand a few times to get him to stop, but Sam pulled until Dean's shirt was half way off. His fingers grasped at his shoulder and a few seconds later Dean realized what they were looking for. Cas's stupid handprint mark thing that, to Dean's absolute frustration and anger, never went away. Fucking Angel marks.

But it sort of worked in this situation because Sam ran his hand over the raised print and that, in the end, absolutely confirmed who the person standing in front of him was. And hell, Dean was scared so Sam had to be goddamn petrified, now not able to see or hear. And what the hell, anyway, what had _happened_?

It wasn't the creepy Angel true image power thing because Dean had seen what happened to Pamela's face and Sam's eyes were pretty much intact and not bleeding out of the sockets. They looked exactly as they should look, except wild and staring around, obviously panicked.

"Alright Sammy, what is going on?" Dean asked aloud to himself since he had no real way to communicate that to his brother.

Sam, meanwhile, was waving his hand to get Dean's attention, and Dean patted his arm to let him know he had it. With his right hand over Dean's left, Sam signed half of Cas's name sign and grunted, "Cas? Where?"

Dean fidgeted and then grabbed Sam's hand and pushed all four fingers together, pressed it to his own head and flung it out, hoping Sam could read the sign for 'I don't know' in a tactile way. From the look on Sam's face, he had, and he didn't like the answer.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, wondering where the hell the angel was, because shouldn't he be here helping to clean up this mess? "Cas, get your winged ass down here and take care of your boyfriend! You really fucked up big time, buddy!"

Dean waited for that telltale swooshing noise, but he was met with the echoing silence of the warehouse and goddamn it he was getting pissed. Sam was still sitting there, looking completely petrified, gripping Dean's hand like he wanted to goddamn rip it off, and Dean had just about enough.

Gingerly, not wanting to freak Sammy out, he pulled his younger brother to his feet and looked around. Wherever they were, they were alone. If it had been some sort of demon attack, the demons would probably be attacking by now, and when Dean spotted all of their crap strewn around near what looked like a door, he had a feeling they weren't in Kansas anymore. Or Iowa, or wherever the hell they'd been earlier.

Not really thinking, Dean yanked Sam along, muttering to himself, "My baby'd better be outside or there's going to be an angel and a demon massacre when I find those sons of bitches, I swear, Sammy—"

But Dean's words were cut off when Sam, despite Dean's hand on him, tripped over a discarded pipe and landed face-first. He gave a loud oomph and a frustrated growl as he kicked the pipe away and attempted to right himself.

"Shit, Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean was saying aloud as he tried to help his little brother to his feet.

Sam shoved him away, jabbing his thumb into his chest twice, fingers splayed up into a 5, telling Dean he was fine, but by the look on his face he was not fine, and he was bleeding now from a gash on his cheek. He seemed to notice that, too, when he swiped his fingers along his skin and licked it, grimacing at the coppery taste.

"I'm going to kill Cas," Dean muttered. He grabbed Sam, pulling him along a lot slower now, making sure there wasn't anything in the way as he went to the door, gathered up his bags, found the keys to his baby, and found her parked in a rather haphazard, but safe, manner outside.

"Thank you god," he muttered. 'Car's here,' he said, waving his upturned palms in front of him until he remembered, again, Sammy couldn't see those signs. Hesitating, he grabbed Sammy's hand as they approached the Impala and formed the letters C-A-R on Sam's and then put Sam's palm against the door as Dean popped the drunk and threw all of his crap inside.

Sam let out a breath, seemingly grateful that they had at least a rudimentary way to communicate, and he let Dean help him into the passenger seat. Dean started the engine, smiling in triumph as she purred to life without hesitation, and even Sam gave a small smile at the familiar vibrating rumble that coursed through the vehicle.

'Where are we?' Sam signed in Dean's general direction. He held his hand out so Dean could attempt to tell him.

Dean signed, 'Don't know,' again using Sam's hand and then, painfully and goddam frustratingly slowly spelled out with Sam's fingers, 'Can you see anything.'

Sam shook an O under his chin and then flung his fingers outwards, 'Nothing,' and then hesitated and brought all five fingers to his chest, pinching them and pulling them out. 'White. Everything's white.'

Well that was… unexpected. Different, and at least it wasn't all black, though Dean wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He couldn't remember shit after Cas went all glowing and Angel nuke on the demons, and he had to wonder if maybe Sammy hadn't received the whole, "Duck or your eyes will be fried," message from Cas with enough time. That fucker. He could speak directly into Sam's head for Christ's sake, the least he could do was make sure the dude whose ass he was pounding would get the damn message before he went all smiting happy on the demons.

Still, sitting in the middle of nowhere wasn't helping their case, or getting Sam his vision back any quicker, so Dean threw the car into gear and shot off down the road. Dean glanced over at Sam once or twice, watching his brother rest his head against the glass, eyes closed, and he hated that they were in this situation.

"Where the hell are you, Cas?" Dean demanded again to the empty air. It wasn't like Cas to ignore his prayers, ever, if not at least for something this damn important. "Sammy needs you and I don't know what the hell we're going to do if you don't get here quick."

And of course Cas didn't show, for whatever reason, Dean wasn't sure. Of course no other Angels showed either, not that he'd take their help, especially in regards to Sam, but three weeks went by and the Winchesters had to make do. Hunting was out of the question, and really all Dean wanted to do was stay the hell off of demon radar until Cas finally decided to get his happy ass back to Earth to help out Sam.

Sam, for his part, was taking it all in stride, as unhappy as he was. He could see vague shapes and shadows, but everything was still completely white, and the communication was lacking at best. Not that the boys ever really communicated well, but this was pushing it. Sam, of course, insisted on doing as much of his own stuff as he could, and after a while Dean quit hovering. He even managed to fashion together a white cane from an aluminum hiking stick, and even though Sam insisted he not bother, he spray painted the thing white so if they were out and about, which wasn't a lot, people would know to stay the fuck away if they didn't want Dean, and probably a gun, in their face.

Dean researched as much as he could while Sam tried to perfect the tactile signing, alternating that with praying and cussing out Cas for being completely absent. They crossed the country, following Angel signs like healings and disappearing dudes in trench coats, but by the end of the third week they'd had no luck and Sam was starting to get discouraged.

It was in this moment of discouragement, when Sam just stopped giving a fuck, he stripped off his shirt in preparation for a shower. Dean, who made it a habit not to look in his brother's direction when he was getting all naked and shit, saw the faintest scar poking up above the waistline of Sam's jeans. It was… red. It was bright red, actually, and the top was a circle. Dean may not have looked at his brother often, but he knew damn well whatever that was, was new and probably important.

Approaching Sam with caution, as Dean tried to do more often now, he touched his brother's arm and then took his hand. 'Don't move,' he signed.

Sam frowned, but nodded and Dean crept around Sam's back and started to tug the jeans down. "What are you doing?" Sam asked aloud, trying to pull away, but Dean held him firm, begging him with a tap on his arm to wait, because Dean was starting to recognize the symbol the more he saw it.

It wasn't a scar, it looked like a goddamn raised tattoo, bright red and though Sam was protesting slightly, Dean shoved Sam's jeans down and just below his hip it sat there. The sign to ward Sam, to ward anywhere Sam was, of Angels.

"Fuck," Dean hissed and he ran his hand over it. Whoever had done this likely had tattooed Sam's ass with blood. If it wasn't so fucked up Dean would probably be rolling on the floor in hysterics, but as it was, he had his currently blind brother freaking out about what the hell was going on, and likely a pissed off Angel lover who was searching the country for his battered boyfriend.

Dean sighed and grabbed Sam's hand to tell him what it was. He spelled it out, very slowly, but every word so Sam knew exactly what was going on. His eyes widened and his fingers flew to the spot, his eyebrows flying up to his hairline when his fingers traced over the circle.

'Get it off!' Sam signed hysterically, his left hand flying off of his right, and Dean caught him by the wrists to calm him down.

There was only one way to break that damn thing and it meant carving a chunk of skin off of his brother, and that was not something he wanted to do. Still, it was probably the only way so he patiently explained it to Sam, who went a bit green, but nodded because he obviously wanted his sight back, and the only way to get it would be to have that bastard Angel come and heal him.

Dean helped Sam to the bed where he lay face down, grabbing a pillow to bite on because he knew this was going to hurt like a son of a bitch. Dean sterilized his sharpest knife, dousing it in holy water just in case, and then held Sam's back down with his knee as he dug in.

Sam let out a howl as the silver pierced the flesh, but no burning or sizzling so the mark wasn't cursed or filled with demon blood. He made a straight line through the circle, then another, and then he just… ripped it up. Like ripping a tag off of an apple, only it was a chunk of his brother's flesh and there was blood just everywhere. He'd seen a lot of gore, hell for ten years he tortured souls in hell, but this was just wrong and… and gross.

The piece of flesh flew through the air, and as it fell to the ground with a sickening thump, there was a sudden wooshing sound and Castiel was just there, standing there, his face drawn and obviously freaked out by what he was looking at.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean all-but shouted at the Angel, knowing perfectly well Cas couldn't have found them, but goddamn it he needed someone to be pissed at.

"What's happened?" Cas demanded, walking up to Sam. He put his hand on Sam's arm, who seemed to recognize him immediately and despite his pain and awkward position, signed Cas's name in the air.

"He's blind. Any idea why?" Dean asked as he pressed a towel to Sam's bleeding skin.

Cas gave a sign and hovered his hand over Sam's backside where the wound healed. He waited for Dean to roll off and then helped Sam to his knees. "It was a demon attack," Cas said. He pressed his hand to Sam's forehead and Dean watched with trepidation as Sam blinked several times, then looked around, locked onto Cas's face and then burst into tears.

Cas, always awkward with massive displays of emotion, turned Sam over to Dean, who wasn't much better at dealing with the emotions, but he was much better at the hugging part, which he did. Sam clung on fiercely as he let out his fear and frustration that he might never see again.

It was a tense moment, but eventually Sam calmed down and through words, mental conversation and signs, Cas explained that the crossroads demon had been working with partners, and had sacrificed himself to allow another to kidnap Sam and Dean. They wanted to incapacitate the boys so they could continue to look for a way to unlock the gates of Hell. Luckily Cas found them first, but because of the Angel warding symbol, he couldn't find the Winchesters. He'd at one point caught a glimpse of Dean, but as the elder brother had pretty much refused to leave Sam's side, it was a brief moment and Cas had lost them again.

The next morning, Dean woke to find Sammy sitting outside in front of their hotel door. There was a little planter there with those crappy fake flowers sitting in real dirt, and a half-broken, white plastic chair which Sam had discarded, and he was just staring out into the distance, the buildings looming, sun rising above the foggy morning.

Dean drew his middle fingers up his front near his shoulders in greeting. 'What's up?'

Sam shook an O under his chin and flung his fingers out. 'Nothing. Just watching.'

'Watching what?' Dean asked.

Sam snorted a laugh. 'Anything. Everything.'

And Dean kind of got it then, because that's exactly what he'd be doing if he'd spent three weeks blind and deaf and totally freaked out that it was never going to end. He didn't want to interrupt Sam's morning communing with the world and what not, so he started to get up.

Sam, however, caught his arm with one hand, and with his other tapped the Y sign down a few times in front of him. 'Stay.'

Dean gave a shrug and hunkered down on the cold concrete. 'Where's Cas?'

'Out. Said he'd be back later.'

Dean nodded and let out a breath. 'Some week, huh?'

Sam gave a snort and rolled his eyes. 'Yeah. Want to try and avoid that in the future.'

"No shit," Dean said aloud, and Sam, who'd read the words on his lips, gave a small laugh.

'You okay?'

Dean tapped his five hand on his chest with his thumb with a slight nod. 'Fine. Could use a vacation.'

Sam nodded back. 'We've been through some stuff over the years.'

'Too much,' Dean replied.

'Too much,' Sam said, mimicking Dean's more sharp signs exactly.

Dean hesitated, knowing he wanted to say this to Sam, knowing he should and he kind of had to, but he hated this girly share your feelings crap. But hell, Sam needed to hear this, from him, because it was only fair. Sam had been through enough shit, too much, as he'd so eloquently repeated, and Dean wanted nothing more than his brother to be happy, for fuck's sake.

'I'm sorry about the whole thing, me freaking out about you and Cas,' Dean began, his hands sort of protesting the signs because he just did not do well going all Oprah on his brother. 'I mean, you know, whatever makes you happy. Ok?'

Sam didn't say anything, didn't really need to. That dimpled smile that Dean would never admit he really just fucking loved, like the kind of love he'd reserve for his own kid, god forbid he ever have one, was enough for Dean to know that Sam got it. And Sam would never really fault Dean for being himself, even if Dean was a colossal, judgmental prick most of the time, because they had been through a lot. Too much. And it wasn't Sam's place to make Dean feel bad since the world did a damn good job of that already.


End file.
